


I will make you everything you want to be

by astano



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astano/pseuds/astano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel knows it’s not just about the sex for Quinn. It can’t be, because she sees more in every action Quinn takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will make you everything you want to be

It’s not like Rachel isn’t aware of Quinn’s... less than desirable qualities, it’s just that she generally chooses to, well, she wouldn’t say _overlook_ them, really, because she doesn’t, rather she believes that all Quinn really needs is someone to believe in her, to _love_ her, and she will eventually change and grow and her problematic behaviour will become a thing of the past. Because, really, isn’t love supposed to conquer all?

It’s why, when Quinn walks past her in the hallway, cocks her head and gestures to the nearby bathroom, Rachel just gives the slightest nod of her head in response, and within five minutes, is waiting inside the stall at the end of the row.

Quinn doesn’t say anything when she enters a couple of minutes later, and there’s certainly no kissing — they haven’t kissed since the first time, when Quinn was drunk beyond belief and Rachel found herself pinned up against a wall outside Puck’s guest bathroom and unable to say no to fingers pressing insistently against panties that were drenched pretty much from the second Quinn looked at her.

What Quinn does do is slip out of her panties and lean back against the side of the stall. She raises one foot to sit on the lid of the toilet and hikes her skirt to bunch up around her waist.

Rachel knows her cue — this isn’t foreign territory by any means — and drops down to her knees. She presses her hands against the stall, and leans forward. Quinn’s already soaked, she always is, and Rachel swipes once through her folds, biting back the moan she wants to let out as the taste of Quinn’s arousal hits her tongue.

At the touch, Quinn drags her lip between her teeth and stares up at the ceiling, never once looking down at Rachel, even as Rachel’s tongue moves faster, presses harder. It’s okay, though, Rachel can deal with this—this almost _detached_ Quinn, because sometimes, sometimes when she comes, her face softens and Rachel can almost, almost hear the whisper of her name dropping from Quinn’s lips.

Most of the time, though, the only sign Rachel has that what she’s doing is in any way affecting Quinn is the slight tensing of muscles and the release of a shaky breath.

When she’s done, she stands on shaky legs, watching as Quinn quickly straightens out her clothes and exits the stall to touch up her makeup and hair in the mirror over one of the sinks.

When everything’s perfect, she turns to look at Rachel once more, and Rachel can see the minute shift in facial expressions that means the Quinn everyone else sees is firmly back in place.

“My house, after school. Don’t be late,” are Quinn’s parting words as she reaches for the handle on the bathroom door and Rachel nods, resigning herself to spending the remainder of the day uncomfortably aroused. Quinn likes to do that, she’s noticed. 

~

Quinn doesn’t answer her door right away, and by the time she does, Rachel’s shivering from the cold.

“You’re early. I was in the shower,” is all Quinn says as her eyes scan Rachel’s shivering body. Rachel doesn’t take her harsh words to heart, though, because Quinn flicks the dial on the central heating control as she walks by and Rachel sighs gratefully.

“How was cheerleading practice?” Rachel asks as they walk through the house, towards Quinn’s bedroom.

Quinn half-turns, and Rachel can see the slightly arched brow and look of confusion on Quinn’s face. They don’t really talk, ever, but Rachel’s trying, because she knows every time she manages to get something out of Quinn other than where she needs Rachel’s mouth, it takes another tiny chip out of the armor Quinn’s built around herself, and if she can chip away enough, she knows Quinn will be a better person because of it.

“It was fine.” Quinn turns back, looking up the stairs as they start to ascend.

“You must be sore,” Rachel says, reaching out briefly to touch Quinn’s shoulder blades. “I’ve seen how hard Coach Sylvester pushes you. Perhaps I could give you a massage later. I have been told I’m rather good at it.”

Quinn shrugs, and Rachel’s hand drops back to her side.

“Maybe,” Quinn says and Rachel bites back her desire to push further, because she knows Quinn’s likely to become irritated if she does. It’s rather like dealing with a wild animal, she thinks, you have to take things slowly, a little step forward at a time, or they might lunge and bite off your hand.

When they reach Quinn’s room, Quinn lets her enter first, then locks the door behind them. It’s a slightly pointless action because Quinn’s mom works late, so they have a fair number of hours before she’s due home.

Rachel slips out of her coat, placing it neatly over the back of the chair in front of Quinn’s vanity, and then turns. Quinn’s regarding her with a thoughtful expression and Rachel feels a shudder run through her body with the weight of Quinn’s gaze.

“Get undressed,” Quinn says, the commanding tone of her voice causing Rachel’s breath to catch in her throat.

It’s alway like this, and Rachel’s come to anticipate the harsh directions Quinn barks out, each word sparking inside her like an actual touch of skin on skin. She knows the short, clipped commands are just Quinn’s way of holding back the words she really wants to say, like if she let her mouth run free, it would divulge unwilling all the thoughts she keeps at bay.

So Rachel complies, quickly divesting herself of her top and skirt and panties, kicking off her shoes and standing naked before Quinn’s unwavering gaze. She shivers again and it’s only about fifty percent to do with the temperature in the room. Goosebumps break out over her skin and her nipples pucker, drawing tight and sensitive to the air.

Quinn cocks her head in the direction of her bed and Rachel walks over. She can hear Quinn getting undressed behind her and fights the urge to turn and watch. Quinn doesn’t like to be studied, despite her body being perfect in Rachel’s eyes, and Rachel had learnt the hard way not to stare.

Quinn’s hand stops her as she’s about to turn and settle on the bed. She knows from experience that Quinn likes her on her hands and knees, so she stills, holding her breath as Quinn’s fingers stroke over her ass and then down.

There’s nothing gentle about her touch, and as much as Rachel sometimes wishes there was, it’s okay. She can deal with this Quinn, who presses her down, forcing her face against the mattress and thrusts fingers — three, it’s always three — roughly inside. She can deal with the way Quinn doesn’t touch her, except to hold her down with a palm flattened against the base of her spine. She can deal because sometimes the hand on her back twitches just slightly, like Quinn’s trying desperately not to give in and touch Rachel with the tenderness she really wants to show.

It’s with that knowledge running through her mind that Rachel comes, body shuddering, bucking back violently onto Quinn’s fingers, and lungs struggling to gasp in air.

Quinn only gives her moments to recover before she’s urging her over and climbing up her body to settle over her face. She can barely breathe, but she knows it’s not going to take long for Quinn to come, it never does.

Quinn tenses above her a short while later, and Rachel licks her through her orgasm, until Quinn pushes up with her knees and moves off to the side, resting back against the bed and running a slightly shaky hand over hair that’s barely a strand out of place.

~

Quinn and Santana are sitting closely together and whispering during their next glee meeting. That’s not entirely unheard of, so Rachel doesn’t really think much of it. It’s only when she faintly hears her name that she looks round sharply to see Santana smirking at her. She smiles hesitantly in return, then turns her attention back towards Mr. Schuester.

It’s not something that she thinks about an awful lot, because it’s not like she isn’t used to being talked about behind her back.

At least, she doesn’t think anything of it until she arrives at Quinn’s that evening and Santana’s sitting on Quinn’s bed.

Rachel stares at Santana in confusion before turning to Quinn. “What’s going on?” She asks.

Quinn smiles. “Sometimes I like to watch,” she says. “And Santana was complaining about how long it’s been since she got laid — in her usual vulgar manner — so I thought, why not?”

Rachel feels her cheeks heat up, and she stares down at the floor for a few seconds to gather herself because she can’t believe Quinn would do something like this before talking to her about it first. She blinks away the tears that have gathered and looks up.

“I don’t—” she starts to say, but is cut off by Quinn’s arms coming around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“You said you wanted to make me happy,” Quinn says, and then she presses the softest kiss against Rachel’s jaw, just below her ear, and Rachel sinks a little into her arms. “I really want this.”

Rachel nods slightly, her eyes searching Quinn’s. “Okay,” she says. “For you.”

Santana’s eyeing them warily when Quinn pulls back.

“I thought you said you’d already talked to Rachel,” she says and Quinn just shrugs.

“It’s fine, Santana,” Rachel says, but she can’t quite meet Santana’s eyes, and even to her own ears, her voice sounds small, hesitant. 

Santana gets up from the bed, shaking her head. “It’s not. I’m not—I can’t believe you, Quinn.”

“She said it’s fine,” Quinn says, eyes narrowing in the way they always do when someone questions her. “It’s fine,” she repeats. “Get back on the bed.”

Santana doesn’t answer, just picks up her coat and bag, and leaves the room.

~

“She’ll only end up hurting you.”

Rachel turns from the piano to regard Santana warily.

“Why do you care?” She asks, and there’s a part of her that’s genuinely interested in Santana’s answer, because it’s not like her to show such obvious concern.

Santana shrugs. “Quinn’s a fucked up bitch. No one should have to deal with that.”

Rachel’s about to dispute Santana’s statement, but really, it’s true, at least on the surface. “There’s more to her than that,” she says instead. “You just have to know how to read her.”

“She doesn’t love you.”

Rachel’s eyes close briefly before she responds, thoughts running through her mind of every time she’s caught Quinn on the edge of revealing something deeper than that which she shows to the world. Her face is resolute when she looks back at Santana. “She does,” she says, eyes meeting Santana’s, almost in challenge. “She just doesn’t know how to express it yet, but that’s okay, she’ll get there in the end.”


End file.
